I want to talk about therapy. As of 2018, I have collectively been in therapy for 13 years.

You’re welcome, Earth.

I have a history of severe depression, anxiety, and a delightful sprinkling of suicidal tendencies, a.k.a. MENTAL ILLNESS. (Insert dramatic music and crowds running away in black and white b-movie terror). When it first showed up so many years ago I was very blessed that I had friends in my life who insisted I wasn’t okay and pointed me in the direction of getting professional help. I send them little prayers every day.

To say there was a lot of stigma around “going to therapy” is sort of the understatement of a lifetime. My parents even tried to talk me out of it because they didn’t want me to get a reputation. They meant well. Thank God I did it anyway because I was suicidal and if I hadn’t I’d be dead now.